


Instigator

by craple



Category: DCU - Comicverse, Red Hood and the Outlaws
Genre: F/M, Fluff and Angst, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-06-02
Updated: 2013-06-12
Packaged: 2017-12-13 18:23:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,326
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/827389
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/craple/pseuds/craple
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tim and Jason have communication issues, Roy makes great pancakes, and Kory is done with them all.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Pay the Bet

**Author's Note:**

> urgh, no, stop, i'm done with you all *whines and cries* SCHOOL I AM DONE WITH YOU ALL
> 
> LOOK AT HOW I COPE WITH FINALS

Today is one of those days.

The moment Kory steps out of the room she shares with Roy, half-asleep and still in her blazing red nightgown, and sees Jason smoking in the balcony – only in his jeans, barefoot, the ugly brown leather jacket hangs loosely around his shoulders without the armour and shows too much of his unfairly God-given abs – she just _knows_ it's one of those days.

Sighing, Kory makes her way toward the balcony, slow but sure. She lets her footsteps be heard; not exceptionally loud, but firm enough to state her presence there, if Jason hasn't heard her waking up already, as one does not try hiding their existence from Jason Todd unless it wants him dead.

Kory would rather deal with Jason's bitching about trust and sneaking up on friends until she has at least four _bottles_ of coffee and waffles the size of her head with vanilla ice cream and chocolate chips on top.

Later, maybe, she would ask Roy to make her some waffles. It's her turn to serve breakfast today, and she has promised him to wear nothing but apron while she cooks when he had three fingers inside her last night, but.

Not that Jason being here would make Roy change his mind – they are comfortable enough with each other to share a living space and walk around naked without one of them freaking out, after all, nudity is hardly a problem. It's that Jason being here at this early hour of the morning instead with Tim at his super-secret penthouse somewhere in Gotham would definitely change Roy's mind, because it can only mean one thing.

Another fight.

Kory leans against the door frame, wincing as it creaks beneath her weight, and waits.

The weather is nice today. As nice as Gotham's weather can be before six o'clock in the morning, with the sky consists mostly of thick silver-grey clouds that hide the sun from view. Bone-chilling wind bringing the stench of alcohol and smoke and blood from the other side of the town. The siren of at least six police cars already up and running down the street, cutting red lights and ignoring the honking of angry cars behind.

When Jason continues to treat her with silence, cigarette reduced so short it can barely fit between his index and middle fingers, Kory accepts his unwillingness to talk. She goes back to the bedroom and shakes Roy awake instead. Putting a finger against his lips when he starts murmuring uncomfortably in response, fingers shaking as they always do when he doesn't have alcohol in his system, and points at Jason's lurking figure outside.

Roy sighs. "Tim?" he asks, rubbing his eyes with shaky tired fingers, sitting up and sinking his head between his knees. Roy has never been a morning person, another reason why it's either she or Jason switching turns making breakfast, however horrible it tastes. Kory just nods and runs a finger through his mess of hair. Roy sighs contently in response.

"I'll make the pancakes, you brew the coffee, okay? He always prefers yours over mine, especially when he's, you know," Roy waves his hand around vaguely, and Kory catches his wrist before he can hit her in the face.

"I know," she replies, then helps him to his feet. Morning breath is a thing that exists, however annoying, but she kisses his lips all the same. Firm and intimate, shoves him away when his tongue traces the seam of her lower lip and puts on her discarded underwear on the floor from last night's activity.

She drapes Roy's jacket around her shoulders, the smell of leather and Roy's cologne rich in her nostrils, before walking back to the balcony and tugs Jason by his elbow. Fingers curling there, insistent but not tight enough he can get away if he wants to.

"Come on," Kory says. Smiles the one genuine smile Jason likes, the only one she reserves for him and Roy, hugging his arm when he goes without protest. "Let's get some food in you before Tim comes to pick you up." Because Tim always does, whenever they have a fight and it's Tim's fault and he knows it. He'd still come anyway, even if it's Jason's and Jason doesn't want to apologise, he always comes.

Jason's face does something sad, his steps falter, and he looks at her with sad blue eyes. "Do you think he will?"

Kory doesn't know love when it is shoved straight to her face, but she is familiar enough to Jason and Tim's routine to know what she has to say.

"Of course he will." She tells him seriously. "He's in love with you."

It's not close enough to something akin to smile, but the tension in Jason's body disappears inch by painful inch, and Kory thinks it's enough, for now.

True to her words, not half an hour later, Tim swings by their flat, looking as desperate as Jason is. Except he is wearing a bear-patterned-I-love-you-Jason pajamas top, the one Kory and Roy specifically ordered for him on his twentieth birthday, with too-large jeans that are obviously Jason's hanging by a thread around his waist.

His mouth opens and closes, forming words but not quite, until he finally chokes it out; "I'm sorry," and Jason goes running to where Tim is, wrapping him in his arms, and Kory tries not to kick Roy in the shin when the man makes vomiting gesture into his plate of warm waffles because she is nice and there is this thing that is called grateful to someone who makes waffles for you on daily basis.

"You owe me fifty bucks," Kory murmurs, low into his ears, because there is such thing as not being rude to the guy who is basically attached (not in love, not yet) to you but there is also such a thing as this; where your not-boyfriend owes you money for losing a bet concerning the love-life of your bestfriend.

Roy makes a noise low in his throat. "You are a horrible, horrible woman." Roy tells her, but he's smiling, and it tastes like honey and sunshine, unlike Gotham's _Lovely_ weather, emphasise needed, so Kory kisses him again and ignores the R-rating make-out session that is happening behind the kitchen counter.

They will probably fight again, Kory thinks. Looking at the worry in Roy's eyes and knows he's thinking the same. She just hopes the money on Wayne's account is going to be enough for the couple counseling she will forcefully sign them in.

After she's finished thanking Roy under the dining table for the waffles.

Also after the hot barebacking make-up sex taking place in her and Roy's bedroom. Not that she's complaining. Just.

"Remind me to charge Bruce Wayne extra for new sheets."


	2. Pet Names

"Are you guys done calling each other pet names?" asks Roy without looking away from his book – the cover reads 'Detoxification For Alcoholic Dummies', a courtesy of Kori, because she is _hilarious_ that way – and drinking his cup of coffee.

Both Tim and Jason stop bickering to shoot him similar offended faces. "If I had been calling him pet names, I would've been more creative," Tim tells him seriously. "Like Baby."

Jason's expressive brows rise. "Really? You're calling that creative, _Babybird_?"

"That was just an expression, Sweetthump."

"Honey-Bun."

"Snookums."

"Heart-throb"

"Lemoncakes."

"What? Lemoncakes?" Jason looks close to laughter and Tim's cheeks flush.

"I read that in a book, shut up."

"Okay, Cherrypop, chill."

"Cherrypop?" Roy asks again as he flips a page.

Tim's fingers hover close near his pouch of batarang, his face as red as his costume. "Why do you call me that!"

Jason grins like the world is his. "Well, for starters: I wasn't the one who got his cherry popped last night."

"Oh my _god_!"

Kori pokes her head into the kitchen. "Have they finished their awkward flirting yet?"

Roy hums and flips another page. "Not quite, Baby cakes."


End file.
